Presidential Bargain

by Rebecca Gallo

  Georgie nodded, but I wasn’t sure she understood.

  I kissed her softly, chastely on the lips. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

  The next morning, I boarded a plane for Virginia with Avon. The upside of being separated from Jameson was that I didn’t have to travel in the claustrophobic bus. At Jameson’s insistence, I had both Lewis and Jenkins with me. While I suspected they were behind this sudden change to the schedule, I was oddly comforted by their presence.

  “Oh, honey, there’s nothing wrong with a little separation,” Avon tried to reassure me and I smiled passively.

  I recalled waking up from a deep nap and finding Jameson packing up his suitcase. I was half-asleep, still disoriented. It didn’t help that he was short with me while he zipped around the bedroom, tossing in clothes and shoes. It also didn’t help that he provided very little explanation for his sudden departure. The more he explained, the clearer it became that he was leaving because of me. Before he left, he reminded me that his first priority was the Oval. I didn’t forget, but I had begun to hope that our relationship was evolving into something real.

  “I don’t mind the separation. I just don’t like the manner in which the separation happened.” I eyed Lewis and Jenkins suspiciously, and they returned my look with guilty ones.

  We weren’t in the air long before we landed at a small airport, where the standard black SUV waited on the tarmac for us. Avon and I were making several stops that day, at events that focused solely on women. This was what we were supposed to do this week—fire up the female base. I just hoped it wasn’t going to turn into constantly rehashing my own sexual assault.

  Avon and I worked together on preparing short speeches, tailored specifically to each event. I was relieved that some of the events were at schools or with teachers. It felt like years since I’d stepped foot in a classroom. The first stop was at a school and on the way, we passed by my favorite store with its bright red trademark bull’s-eye.

  “Stop. Stop here, please.” I looked at my watch and knew we were early.

  “Why are we stopping?” Avon asked.

  “We’re not walking into a school without school supplies.”

  Avon smiled brightly. If I couldn’t be with Jameson, then I could distract myself until we were together again.

  Avon and I powered through the back-to-school section, loading up two carts with supplies. I coerced Lewis and Jenkins into coming as well and we filled their carts with backpacks and even more supplies. It was hard to contain the excitement I felt purchasing supplies for teachers to hand out to students.

  When we arrived at the event, Lewis, Jenkins, the driver, and our small security team were enlisted to carry in all the bags. I could see the immense gratitude on the faces of the teachers we met with, knowing they would be able to give their students the tools necessary for success. Everyone thought that what Avon and I did was so great, and they ‘oohed’ and ‘ahhed’, but in reality, it was the right thing to do.

  “Please don’t thank me for doing this,” I added to my already prepared speech. “So often, teachers are asked to do more with less funding and they reach into their own wallets to provide the resources their students need in order for them to be successful. This means providing anything from a pencil to a notebook to a backpack, or even a hot meal. It will be my honor to represent you in the White House, and to make sure that teachers finally have a voice in education policy.”

  The gymnasium was filled with thunderous applause and I smiled, embarrassed by the attention. Avon and I waved before walking off the stage that had been set up in the middle. We were ushered out a set of doors and into the waiting car.

  “Girl, you had them eating out of your hand!” Avon was smiling brightly, and I felt relaxed and happy. For the first time since Jameson and I made our deal, I felt like I made a difference.

  “Maybe working with you won’t be so bad after all,” I replied, winking at her.

  “Thanks! I’m so glad you find my company tolerable.” Avon rolled her eyes and we both laughed.

  “Seriously, I think we need to do something like that for at least one of our stops every day this week. Aren’t we going to a shelter for homeless women tomorrow?”

  Avon took out her phone and scrolled through her calendar. “Yes. And also a library.”

  “Awesome. So, why don’t we try and arrange to have a local salon come out and provide haircuts to the women? And we can assemble care packages for them with things they might need.”

  We spent the rest of the car ride looking through our schedule and trying to find local resources to help the people we met, and their communities. It wasn’t enough for me to tell them what Jameson would do when he was the president or what I would do for them as First Lady. I had to show them. The people I met with needed to see I cared, that they had someone who would listen and speak for them.

  By the time we made it to the hotel, I was exhausted. Avon and I had separate but adjoining rooms. I hesitated to open the door between our rooms because we were little more than strangers. This kind of female comradery was unfamiliar to me. I had very few close friends because letting people in meant the possibility of getting hurt. After my father lost everything, most of my friends withdrew and I started putting up walls to protect myself. When my parents died, I stopped letting people in and focused entirely on my job. I felt awkward around Avon because friendship was a foreign concept to me now. However, being with Jameson taught me that I didn’t need to keep people out anymore and I was ready to tear down those barriers.

  Avon knocked before I could even raise my hand. I opened it and she stood there before me, wearing purple sweatpants and a gray T-shirt. Her gorgeous caramel-colored hair was fastened in a beautiful purple paisley silk scarf and her face was wiped clean of makeup.

  “You work fast!” I had yet to change out of my black capri pants and red boatneck blouse.

  “I thought we could work on those care packages for the homeless shelters. All of the stuff was delivered to the hotel.”

  “Sure. Give me ten minutes to get changed.”

  Avon nodded and I closed the door. I opened my luggage and found my pair of black yoga pants and one of Jameson’s T-shirts I’d stashed away. I inhaled the familiar, clean scent that remained on the shirt. I slipped it over my head and instantly, my heart ached. I missed him.

  Just as I was about to knock on Avon’s door, my cell phone rang. When I looked down at the caller ID, Jameson’s name flashed across the screen. Immediately, my heart rate seemed to triple but then I remembered how he just left, just decided to change the schedule without talking to me. I missed him terribly, but I was still angry. I ignored the call and decided that maybe distance would make his heart grow fonder.

  I knocked on Avon’s door and she answered it, handing me a glass of wine.

  “You’re speaking my language.” I took a sip. The wine was chilled and sweet, with a delicious flavor that reminded me of strawberry jam. “This is good.”

  “Pizza is on its way up.”

  “They have pizza here?”

  Avon gave me a look that said, “Are you serious?” and I laughed. “I sent one of the boys out to get it.”

  We got to work organizing the supplies while we waited for our pizza to arrive. When there was a knock on the door, I answered it and was met with the tantalizing aroma of cheese and garlic. It was like heaven.

  “Are you going to let me in?” Jenkins asked, after I spent enough time sniffing the box he carried.

  I smiled and let him pass. Lewis was hot on his heels, cell phone pressed to his ear.

  “Senator Martin wants to talk to you,” Lewis informed me.

  “Tell Senator Martin that I’m busy right now and I’ll call him in the morning. Maybe.”

  Lewis didn’t look happy to have to relay that message to Jameson. I didn’t give a fuck because there was pizza and wine, and I was finally doing something for myself. I ignored Lewis, who was still talking to Jameson, and walked ov
er to the table where Jenkins had set down the pizza. I lifted the lid and my mouth began to water.

  For the rest of the night, it was easy to get lost in girl talk, stuffing my face full of greasy goodness. Wine kept magically reappearing and I was downright giddy as we assembled care packages. Through the magic of the Internet, we had boxes of tampons, razors, toothpaste, toothbrushes, and bottles of shampoo and conditioner delivered to the hotel earlier in the day. I contacted a locally-owned hotel, who agreed to provide the women with a free night every week so they could sleep in a warm bed and shower. I wanted to do more for these women, but it was hard. Financially, I didn’t have much money. I did, however, have a variety of motivational quotes memorized, so I wrote a little note to each woman and tucked them inside with everything else. Avon did something similar; she had a meaningful prayer printed on a piece of cardstock and included those. And because they were women and we were women, there was chocolate.

  After all of the bags had been assembled, I surveyed the pile and grinned. This was meaningful work; this would help the women at the shelter and maybe, inspire them.

  “Ms. Washington, Senator Martin is on the line again,” Jenkins informed me, just as we were boxing up the last of the care packages.

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You shouldn’t avoid him,” Avon commented.

  “But shouldn’t I make him sweat a little?”

  “He’s called five times already.”

  “Technically, six. He called me before I came over.”

  “That’s enough sweat for one man.”

  I held out my hand and Jenkins handed me his phone. “Hello,” I said, my tone a little terse.

  “What the fuck, Georgie! I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for the last few hours.”

  “I know. Avon and I have been busy.”

  “You could have taken a few minutes to stop and talk to me.”

  I scoffed at his statement. He was going to lecture me on making him a priority?

  “I’m sorry. It’s been a long day and we wanted to get this done before the morning.”

  I heard him sigh on the other end. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. Avon and I had a great day visiting a school, talking to the teachers. We bought supplies for them to hand out to students.”

  “I saw that on the news. Very clever.”

  “Jameson, can we talk tomorrow? I’m just not ready to talk to you. I’m exhausted and cranky.” I feared that if we continued this conversation, I’d snap at him and say something I’d regret.

  “I just wanted to hear your voice, Georgie. That’s all. Even if you’re mad at me, hearing your voice makes me feel connected to you.”

  I felt exactly the same way.

  I sighed heavily, my defenses crumbling. “I miss you too. I wanted to share what happened today with you. I wanted you to be there with me.”

  “I know. I have so much to explain to you after the debate. I promise, Georgie. Just stick it out this week.”

  “Okay.” It was all I could promise him.

  DeWayne and I stood in front of the television in my hotel room watching the news, watching Georgie and Avon win over America. We both had identical stupid ass grins on our faces because the women in our lives were out making us, and our country, proud. I stared intently at Georgie’s figure on the screen as she talked about the importance of education and the sacrifice teachers often make in order to provide their students with the best possible education. She looked radiant when, just the day before, she was a wreck.

  Seeing Georgie on the news made me miss her. I felt a physical ache in my chest, like the tug of a string, and I knew that was our connection. No matter how much distance I tried to put in between us, we were now firmly connected. I rubbed at my chest, trying to ease the tension, but I knew the only thing that would help would be to hear her voice.

  I reached into my pocket and removed my phone. I smiled at the picture on my home screen; it was from our shoot with Sierra Simmons. I had asked one of her assistants to take a few photos with my phone, unbeknownst to either Sierra or Georgie. The photo was of the two of us sitting on the plush, white armchair, looking like patriotic perfection. Me, in my dark blue suit, and her in that decadent red dress, sitting on a pristine white chair.

  I shook myself out of the temporary trance and swiped to unlock the screen. I scrolled through my contacts until I found her number and hit “SEND”. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. I didn’t want to seem overbearing, so I waited a while before calling Lewis.

  I heard Georgie answer Lewis when he informed her I was on the line. I wasn’t exactly surprised to hear her reject my call. Lewis tried his best to be diplomatic. In the background, I could hear Georgie and Avon talking, and I knew Georgie was all right.

  “I’m sorry, Senator Martin,” Lewis apologized.

  “Don’t worry about it. She’s mad at me. I can handle it. How was her day?”

  I listened as Lewis filled me in, providing me with whatever details I asked for, and even growing bold enough to express an opinion or two. I was troubled when he said there were moments throughout the day when Georgie seemed withdrawn, and I knew it was because of me.

  “I’ll call back in a bit. Maybe she’ll talk to me then.”

  I called three more times and each time, she didn’t want to talk. Lewis was very forthcoming with information, though, telling me what Georgie and Avon were working on. I was impressed with her initiative to do more than just give a speech. The most important thing I learned about Georgie in the short while we’d been together was that she didn’t like being idle. She wanted to be involved, to be doing something. It was one her most admirable qualities.

  When I was finally able to reach her, she hardly talked and when she did, she didn’t offer much in the way of conversation. Eventually, to get through to her, I was honest. I told her I missed her and when she told me she felt the same, I felt a tightness in my chest. She agreed to give me a week, but then she needed to know the truth. I needed to tell her everything we had learned about Russell Hunt a.k.a. Russell Atlee and his connection to the governor, but I didn’t want to tell her something that wasn’t one hundred percent true.

  I continued to watch the news, long after DeWayne left, just to catch glimpses of her. I imagined all of the filthy, deliciously dirty things I wanted to do to her. But I also pictured the normal, mundane things that made her special. The black yoga pants. Her addiction to dessert. The desire to still shop at Target, even though her closet was filled with designer labels now. America didn’t need a woman with a perfect political pedigree to be its next First Lady. America needed someone who knew their hardships and understood their sacrifice. That was Georgie and I was ready to put her in the White House.

  The next day, I was glued to the news coverage of Georgie’s visit to a homeless shelter for women. She looked beautiful, dressed simply in a white blouse and navy trousers. Her mass of hair was swept back in a ponytail and she wore almost no makeup. I knew why she dressed this way; it was because she didn’t want any attention. Georgie and Avon gave short speeches before they surprised the women with the care packages. The press was asked to leave the event, but Lewis and Jenkins kept me updated. Not only had Georgie and Avon surprised the women at the shelter with the packages, they had also arranged for a local hair salon to come in and provide them with haircuts.

  “This is what we need to show America, DeWayne.” I was excited by what they were doing. “They need to see us doing things. We all talk a big game, but when it comes to actually doing things that help the American people, most politicians fail miserably. That has to change!”

  Politics was often ugly and truly only benefitted people, or corporations, with money. If you wanted something done and were willing to fork over the cash, then it was expected politicians would make it happen. I wanted to change that. Just one look at my campaign’s account and anyone could see that hardly any of the money came from big business. I let the PACs
and super PACs deal with the businesses who wanted to donate. But our campaign was funded by the American people and I owed them. Georgie was making good on that through her selfless actions. I knew where the money came from, and it wasn’t my campaign bank account. She was paying for all of that from her own meager savings account, and from credit cards that were on the verge of reaching their limit.

  I pulled up my own schedule and it was nothing but town halls and union halls and school gymnasiums. These were all opportunities for me to meet the average American voter. What could I do for them? How could I show them that I not only was the best candidate, but that I planned on keeping every single campaign promise?

  I started researching every town where we had scheduled events. What did they need? What could I provide them easily? Who had donated to my campaign from those towns? How could I help their family? Sean, DeWayne, and I worked tirelessly in the car, in between stops, to find the information I needed and to come up with a plan. We were headed to Ohio next and decided to invite some of the donors to my events. At each event, we would thank them and surprise them with whatever they might need.

  “I want you to know that I intend to keep every one of my campaign promises. I look at what my gorgeous fiancée and DeWayne’s beautiful wife are doing, and I’m inspired to do whatever it takes to help the American people. Politicians talk a big game, but we know who is really pulling the strings. The donors who give millions in exchange for favors. Well, we’ve looked at our donor list and the American people are the ones giving us the most money. So, we owe you a couple of favors.”

  The campaign event was held in the town hall of a city in northeast Ohio and the room was packed. I was sweating from the heat of so many people packed into one room. The sleeves of my white dress shirt were rolled up. My tie had been discarded in the back of the car. It was evening and I was exhausted after having spent the entire day working to identify donors, and then contacting them with the invitation to attend the event.